Ephemera
by pyrrhicvictoly
Summary: For the Mazoku, whose lives were like slow burning candles, watching humans flash by like fireworks was both painful and beautiful. Lord von Voltaire gazes upon the bright future that their very Human king had strived for, and remembers. Deathfic.
1. Ephemera

**A/N:** There is MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH in this fic. If I haven't chased you away yet, please give it a try. This is by far the most serious fic I have ever written. It is, in fact, way too serious for someone who calls herself a crack!fic writer. (People seem to want more angst out of me, though. Haha...) I honestly don't think I have the skills to do justice to the feelings I tried to portray, but if this piece touches someone, even a little, then I have succeeded. (And yes, I cried all over my keyboard like a wimp.)

_Ephemera_ is an introspective piece from Gwendal's POV. There are two side stories yet to come. _Mayfly December Romance_ will be about Wolfram and Yuuri's brief romantic relationship, and _Mono no Aware_ will tie up some loose ends about what happened between Conrad and Yuuri that Gwendal didn't see.

-oOo-

**Ephemera**

Lord von Voltaire had had a full life. He had seen many things and known many people, some of whom would unquestionably grace the textbooks for generations to come. Indeed, the chronicles of many of these great men and women, human and Mazoku alike, sovereigns and commoners alike, had already been carefully recorded by his friend, the scholarly Lord von Kleist.

It was the large tome he held in his hands right now that brought him back to those days. There, in Gunter's elegant script, was the culmination of years of tears and ink-stained hands. It was the life and times of the 27th King of Shin Makoku, and it began, unlike Lord von Kleist's customary flowing prose, with simplicity.

_The Mazoku on Earth have normal human life spans._

Gwendal had ignored such statements when he first heard them. He had known that they were true, but he had not wanted to think on such morbid things. Most of the citizens of Shin Makoku had ignored them as well. After all, King Yuuri was the most popular sovereign since Shinou himself, and they did not want it to be true. They willed it not to be true, as if denial could shift the very fabric of reality.

It had very nearly undone all that Yuuri had fought for.

When his subjects first noticed that Yuuri was aging far too fast, literally dying before their eyes, they had balked. They had cursed his human mother, and laid all the blame on her. They forgot to consider the fact that their beloved king's claim to the throne came solely from his Mazoku soul, and not from his barely-there Mazoku heritage.

They did not consider the fact that his supposedly Mazoku father was also quite human, or that the Shibuya family had been marrying humans for many generations before Shouma, or that the Earth branch of the von Wincotts had been marrying humans for many generations before they became part of the Shibuya line.

There had only ever been one full-blooded Mazoku to make Earth his home. All those on Earth who considered themselves Mazoku would, in Shin Makoku, not even have the right to lay claim to that part of their heritage, so diluted was their blood. They were not even half-bloods; not even close. People with more Mazoku heritage than those on Earth could be found in greater numbers in any country of this world. For the most part, the Mazoku of Earth were only Mazoku in name. First and foremost, they were Human.

Mazoku prejudice against humans had not always been hatred. In the beginning, it had been fear, and it was this fear which lingered now.

It was to protect themselves from these painful feelings that the early Mazoku shunned contact with those mayflies known as humans. The rare few who still clung to ideals of blood purity did not like to admit that most modern Mazoku did indeed have diluted human blood flowing in their veins. The ancestors of the modern Mazoku, the green-skinned race of demons known as the Healers and the ethereal Lake Tribe, lived even longer.

Most of the Healers had long since bred out into modern Mazoku, but the Lake Tribe still kept themselves pure through seclusion. The difference in life span was most painful for those of the Lake Tribe, purest of the pureblood Mazoku, with their unearthly violet eyes and porcelain white skin. Ulrike, now nearing a millennium old, still retained her youthful appearance, as did her predecessor, Ondine, of whom no one knew the age. Immortality, or near-immortality, was their curse to bear.

It was no surprise, then, to know that most members of the Lake Tribe had learned their lessons and shut themselves away in their secluded forest sanctuary. If they met no short-lived Mazoku, or even shorter-lived humans, then they would not risk coming to love such ephemeral creatures, for the only possible outcome of such an affair was bitter heartbreak.

-oOo-

He remembered.

Yuuri, frail and bedridden. Hair once the richest black now white as snow. The king had someone watching him at all times. The healers had insisted that he could go at any minute, and a loved one ought to be there for him, so they took shifts.

When it was Gwendal's turn, he would sit beside the man he had come to deeply respect. In his own quiet way, Gwendal doted upon Yuuri as if the king were yet another younger brother for him to protect. He knit animals for Yuuri as they talked of politics and current issues. At times, he even read to him, hoping that his deep, rumbling voice would soothe the king to sleep.

One day in particular stood out in his memory.

Wolfram's shift had ended and the youngest brother trudged out of Yuuri's room, rubbing at his temples.

"Headaches again, Wolfram? I'll give you some of my remedies."

"Ah, thank you, brother."

Then Wolfram had returned to his work as Regent, and Gwendal had been by Yuuri's bedside for a few hours, concentrating intently on finishing the stuffed bearbee in his arms. The ill king, wheezing lightly, had turned his head to regard Gwendal's work. He smiled, then, a mischievous smile that reminded Gwendal of years gone by, and poked Gwendal in the forehead.

"You have a new wrinkle," Yuuri said.

Gwendal was too shocked to respond, but had eventually chuckled and teased back. "Speak for yourself."

Yuuri grinned even wider, and settled back down to rest, contented. With his newest creation finished, Gwendal set it by Yuuri's side, whereupon the younger man had asked, "Is it a bearbee?"

And Gwendal had nearly dropped his needles. When he recovered from the second momentary shock, he grunted an affirmative and clasped Yuuri's hand in reassurance before leaving the room.

Conrart had the night shift, and the soldier would bring in dinner as Gwendal left. Sometimes, Gwendal would sigh as the door closed, and, leaning against the wall, allow himself a small moment of bone-deep weariness. Then he would hear laughter coming from the king's chambers, and all would be as it should. Yuuri was laughing about baseball, and the world made sense again.

That night, Conrart came right on time, as he always did, but there was no laughter. Gwendal returned to his own rooms, but was unable to sleep. He surreptitiously checked back at Yuuri's chambers throughout the night, at times hearing softly mumbled words from within, but never daring to enter.

He couldn't shake the nagging feeling, and so again returned at dawn. Gunter was there as well, prepared for his early morning shift. They nodded to each other in the understanding way of old friends and waited for Conrart to open the door.

Still, to this day, Gwendal could recall with perfect clarity Gunter's heartwrenching scream.

Gwendal had not been privy to Conrart and Yuuri's conversation, but when his brother came out of the chamber at dawn, twelve hours after he went in, Conrart was clinging to that damnable blue stone, which had again returned to his possession.

-oOo-

Yuuri's passing pained them all, and the nation was thrown into mourning. However, they remembered Yuuri, his exuberance, his good cheer, and his endless love. Yuuri was not perfect – he would have wanted a little bit of mourning from the people to show that they cared, but more than that, he would have wanted them to honor his memory by getting on with their lives and continuing to fight the good fight, for peace and equality for all.

That was exactly what they did. Under the rule of Wolfram von Bielefelt, 28th King of Shin Makoku, the nation's wounds began to heal. It was Wolfram who had proven to have the greatest emotional strength of all of them. Wolfram and his sharp attitude pushed and shoved his people out of their self-absorbed misery. He could not be their Sun, as Yuuri had been, but he could light the way with his own brand of passion.

For Gwendal, however, he was haunted by the memory of a young Shibuya Yuuri. Forever fifteen years old, wide-eyed and exuberant, Yuuri ran through the halls of Blood Pledge Castle, catching his eye when he least expected it. He would turn a corner, and Yuuri would be there, being pulled along by Wolfram, or clutching a worn baseball as he pulled 'Conrad', as he liked to call Conrart, out to the courtyard for a game of catch.

Gwendal might have thought himself mad, but Conrart saw these images, too. His brother would stop and smile off into the distance at the oddest moments. Although the soldier tried to remain strong in the public eye, there were nights when Conrart spent hours outside doing nothing but tossing a ball to himself, talking to himself, asking himself if the Red Sox had won the World Series, and how would Yuuri like to return to Earth to see the next game?

At first, he and Wolfram had desperately tried to talk some _sense_ into Conrart, had told him that there was no use mourning like this, since it only served to hurt his brothers, had told him that Yuuri would have wanted him to be happy... And it had all amounted to nothing but that infuriatingly empty smile. It was as if their brother had lost some essential spark that made him Conrart. It was as if he had lost his soul.

"But I am happy," Conrart told them both on multiple occasions. However, to Wolfram, though Gwendal had not meant to overhear, he had whispered, "Don't tell Gwendal because he'll worry, but I'd like to be selfish just this once."

All the while, Conrart laughed and he smiled. Smiled. Smiled. Smiled. Some nights he would even sing, and those were the times Gwendal would slowly approach his brother and hold him, comforting him as he had never done since they were children, but even still, Conrart never stopped smiling gently into the sky as his voice rang out to the stars._ Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go._

It soon became common knowledge that Lord Weller had quietly gone mad with grief. Gwendal got used to the rumors, though he defended Conrart at every turn. He even got used to these ghostly images of Yuuri over the years, but they never failed to make his heart twinge just a bit.

What truly broke his heart was when, much too soon after the loss of his king, he looked at his half-human brother and once again saw Dan Hiri Weller as he had truly appeared. It was during a formal dinner party when he realized it. Again, too late. Gwendal immediately shoved up from his seat and excused himself. He ran from the banquet hall with a hand clasped over his mouth, and was sick.

In his room, he sank to his knees before the bed with his hands over his face to hide the shame and the pain. He cried that night, for the first time in his adult life. How could it be that he would outlive both father and son?

In his old age, Gwendal finally admitted to himself that he had loved Dan Hiri Weller. He had hated him because he loved him. Dan Hiri was Gwendal's role model, the perfect man he aspired to be, and the only father figure he had ever known. As a young man, he had been so _jealous_ of Conrart because he had wanted so badly to call that man his father. To know that such a man was human was too much to bear. He shoved his step-father away so that he would not be hurt when the man inevitably passed away, but things hadn't gone as planned.

And now his brother, too? Gwendal had felt it before, the sense that he was losing Conrart. When he had heard his brother's foolish request to be sent out on the front lines at Rutenberg, to march to his death just to prove that his life had worth, he had panicked. He had wanted to refuse, but he had been on another battlefield, and even if he had been back at the castle, he was only a junior member of the Ten Nobles at the time, and it would not have been his decision to make.

Even then, things had not been as frightening because Gwendal knew, deep in his heart, that Conrart's unparalleled skill with the sword would not fail him. And when Conrart had lost his arm years later, there had been the slim chance of survival, or, barring that, at least the comforting knowledge that he had fought like a great hero to the very end. And when Conrart had begun his slow descent into madness, there had been the thought that he would one day recover, because wasn't it said that time heals all wounds?

There had been time. For Gwendal, yes, but as he sat beside Conrart and knitted a little stuffed lion, he finally admitted that Time was Conrart's enemy. There had never been a man whom Conrart was afraid to face. The Lion had never backed down.

Aging, however, was not something that could be defeated with steel; it wasn't even something that could be _fought_ in a way that they, being career soldiers, could understand.

As humble Conrart liked to say, "There is always someone stronger than you." It was true, Gwendal thought, because though Shin Makoku's best swordsman had yet to be defeated in a duel, there was still that last opponent. Like his father before him, Conrart soon fell to the merciless blades of time.

And as with Yuuri, there was a ghost in Gwendal's heart. This one, however, was never seen, but only heard. When that flickering phantom Yuuri would dance through the halls, it was now accompanied with a haunting melody in Conrart's voice.

_I'll be yours through all the years, 'til the end of time._

-oOo-

Gwendal put down the book and sat still in his office, looking out the window onto the scene below. He quietly observed his youngest brother, who was all the family he had left, now. Or perhaps…not quite. A flock of small children, Greta's descendants, burst out from the bushes and tackled their great-grandfather who, except for the crow's feet around his eyes, still looked to be in his prime. Wolfram was surrounded by life, and Gwendal smiled, turning his attention back to his documents.

After writing a few lines, he found that he couldn't concentrate today. His mind still drifted to the past. On his desk was a 'photograph'. It was a gift from Yuuri, which the Maou had gotten a guard to take with a strange Earth contraption.

They were all there and smiling. Even Gwendal himself had his lips slightly quirked up. He gently stroked the frame.

Like the smoky wisps of dreams, like snowflakes melting at a touch, the lingering scent from a wilted flower, the morning dew which is gone by the time the sun rises; like the mayfly, whose life is but beautiful ephemera, Gwendal cherished the lives of his companions in faded memory.


	2. Mayfly December Romance

**Ephemera Side Story #1: Mayfly December Romance**

Wolfram and Yuuri's tragic romance. How it ended, and how it continued after the end. Wolfram/Yuuri, Wolfram/Gisela.

-oOo-

Theirs was not a storybook love. No one could have predicted that love would bloom from that kind of mess. After all, insulting the king's mother did not bode well for the start of courtship.

Their new king had been a stranger in a strange land. He was change, progress, and justice. In contrast, Wolfram represented the status quo. _Why fix something that wasn't broken?_ he had thought. _Why invite this foreign child to rule over our people?_

In the beginning, they clashed over everything, from government spending to the king's wardrobe. And yet, somewhere deep down, there was mutual respect. They were friends, and then as the years passed and they both matured, they became something more. But at the core of this _whatever it was_ that lay between them was friendship, always friendship. It took much coaxing and cajoling on Wolfram's part; much subtle pleading disguised as demands, and demands disguised as coy invitations, for Yuuri to succumb. For all his strength as the Maou, he was such a skittish man when it came to matters of the heart.

"I'm the black sheep in the family," Yuuri said in a rare bout of introspection. "My parents got married after the fifth date. They rushed everything! Shori never second guesses himself when he asks girls out, either. But me? I've never been popular in that way. There won't be many chances for a plain guy like me, so I need to take things slowly and make sure that, if I'm ever in one, the relationship is really what I want. Well, that's what I thought before I got here and my plans all got shot to hell."

"Don't you dare call yourself plain! You insult me, your beautiful fiance, when you imply that I have poor taste in partners!" Wolfram lifted his nose spectacularly high in the air. He looked down as haughtily as he could until he caught Yuuri's gaze.

He couldn't help but burst into laughter, his dramatic act ruined, cheeks pinking as he kissed his young love. His arms slid around the other man, pulling them flush together. Yuuri grunted in surprise at the first touch of lips, but opened up to accept his fiance.

Then he pulled back. Awkwardly scratching the back of his head, Yuuri tried to change the subject with stilted laughter. "Ahaha! Ha... So, um... Gunter said something about preparing to... ah, something about the supplies... we should..."

"Wimp."

Wolfram jerked the other man's head back for another kiss.

-oOo-

He sank to his knees before his king. He laid his head upon Yuuri's thigh and clung to his love, gasping as if his heart was seizing up. The vice gripped his whole being, the pain so intense that he could not think of how he would ever overcome this.

Wolfram trembled as he held Yuuri to him this way, until he felt a cool flow of healing magic pass through his body. He looked up to see Yuuri's hand above his head, encased in a blue-green glow.

"Thank you, Yuuri. It feels better when you do that."

"Anytime."

When Yuuri smiled, Wolfram noticed the faintest of lines at the corner of those dark eyes. His mouth opened to comment, but his throat closed up.

"Do you understand now, Wolfram?"

"No, you fool! Of course I don't!" The proud von Bielefelt in him wanted to scorn his king as he had been scorned, but the part of him that was just Wolfram, who loved Yuuri, wanted to cry and cling to his broken fairytale. He got up and faced his king on equal footing. "I will never understand."

"I'm freeing you. This way you don't have to be engaged to an old coot."

Wolfram took a deep breath. He breathed in the sight of his lover - the tall, imposing silhouette, the sharp lines of his jaw, the love in his eyes. He took it all in and placed a hand on Yuuri's heart. "I don't want to be free."

-oOo-

"You're as beautiful as the day we met. No, you've grown even more beautiful." It was true. When they had first met, they were equal in height and stature and Wolfram had been a fresh young beauty, gorgeous enough to be mistaken for a girl. And now? Now, he had finished that slow bloom and was a man in the prime of his life. Where once he had seemed like a spoiled brat, now his aristocratic air only made him appear all the more regal.

Wolfram sat at his former lover's bedside and indulged his ramblings. It was the least he could do to repay the man who had reopened his heart to his brother. Through Yuuri, he had been confronted by race, and been charmed by it. Through Yuuri, he had a human daughter. For all of that and more, he would try to remain patient as he listened to this nonsense.

"I've seen the girls looking at you."

"I don't look at them."

"But you look at Gisela."

Wolfram flushed hotly. "She's just a friend," he ground out.

"Oh come on, Wolf! I heard from Gunter how you used to have a crush on her. It's not a crime to admire other people once in a while, especially when your fiance is a wrinkly old bag like me! I'm not going to get jealous," he teased.

Fiance? Hah! What a cruel joke, Wolfram thought. They had broken their engagement so long ago. He pursed his lips and refused to respond to Yuuri's taunting.

Yuuri, too, was silent. After a moment, he spoke again, but much softer this time. "You should court someone. Do it for me, please?"

"Wimp! You're trying to turn me into a cheater like yourself!" Wolfram growled out. "I can't… I can't look at you anymore." He shook his head sadly and got up to leave, eyes averted.

Yuuri grabbed his wrist, and Wolfram startled at the weak grip.

"I love you, Wolf. I want you to be happy, and I know that having you stay with me will only bring you pain. I tried to get you to leave me before, but... I guess it wasn't enough. It's already my fault that you've suffered so much because I was too selfish to push you away when I first noticed what was happening. Please promise me you'll move on."

"I won't... " Wolfram shook his head again. Yuuri had broken their engagement _too_ soon, in his mind. They should still have been engaged - no, they should have been married. "I won't! Not until you…"

"Not until I'm gone? That won't be too long, for a Mazoku. For now, I just want your word."

And how could Wolfram say no to that? He could do nothing but bite his lips and nod as he raged in his heart.

_We should have been married!_

Theirs was not a storybook love. There was no happily ever after, no tragic lovers' suicide. There was just... one tiny sliver of time when two disparate rhythms matched up before beating away at different tempos. One slipped away and fluttered into the silence. It was a reality no scribe ever wanted to glorify in myths and legends.

-oOo-

Theirs was a kind of storybook love. It was not like valiant Prince Charming coming to rescue the damsel in distress. Indeed, one would be hard pressed to refer to Sergeant Gisela von Kleist as anything other than an accomplished soldier and doctor, and a very proudly self-sufficient woman, too. Rather, it was the tale of two childhood acquaintances who grew up together, attended school together, grew apart, and grew together again. In the end, the hero and heroine find that their destined one had been under their noses the entire time.

When her father had moved from von Kleist lands to the capitol, Gisela had come with him. He had been offered a position in the military academy, so she was to go there for schooling. There, she came to know two princes near her age: Lord Conrart Weller, her father's most prized student, and Lord Wolfram von Bielefelt, the most beautiful, regal, arrogant, spoiled, haughty, pompous _ass_ she had ever met.

She would soon realize that Wolfram had that same effect on nearly everyone. They loved him until he opened his mouth, whereupon it became obvious that he looked down his perfectly proportioned aquiline nose at everyone, and then they hated him until he finally swallowed his pride and shut up.

That he was willing to admit his own faults and strive to better himself was what set him apart from some others of his station, but Gisela still did not think very highly of such a man, whose hands were softer than her own.

It wasn't until they were forced together that she began to revise her opinion of him. It was obvious early on in her basic lessons that, despite her father's battle prowess, swordsmanship was not her calling. When the time came to choose a career path, Gisela opted to train as a field medic. This required much more magical knowledge, and so she was to be apprenticed to a renowned healer. That was how she met Lady Suzanna Julia von Wincott, who had just taken up the post as Prince Wolfram's private tutor.

Lady Julia was not like other nobles. She did not believe in the caste system, or in any social inequalities at all. She taught her two students together, regardless of the fact that one was a prince of the realm, whose lineage stretched back to Shinou himself, and the other was barely nobility through adoption - better off than a scandalous halfbreed, but with about as much political clout as a bastard child. Lady Julia did not care for that; she cared only for magical talent and willingness to learn.

Eventually, Wolfram and Gisela each came to accept the presence of the other during their lessons. Lady Julia had once teased them for having their heads too close together when they were sharing a tome of incantations. And when Yuuri came into the picture, despite Wolfram's preoccupation with the other boy, she began to see yet another side of Wolfram - one who was willing to disguise himself as a commoner and eat barbecued squid with the rest of the crew without turning his nose up even once. The rest was, as they say, history.

The fairytale was coming to a close. It was _finally_ coming to a close, for the usual legendary lovers got together in about a fortnight, not nearly two hundred years. But finally! With hard work, respect, and trust, they were to start building their happily ever after.

Now, however, Gisela couldn't help but worry just a bit. It was a brave new world they were living in, where Lady Julia's ideals from so long ago had been carried out as law by King Yuuri. But still, it was nearly unheard of for a woman like her to rise to such a position. Just as there had never been a human royal consort before Dan Hiri Weller, there had never been one like her. An orphan, to a military brat, to... Queen.

Yes, that was what she was now.

Did she have regrets? Reservations? She knew she was second place in Wolfram's heart, but that was... all right, in a way, since the number one spot had been someone who had touched all their lives and changed them for the better.

Gisela had idolized Lady Julia so long ago. She had childishly told her father that Julia was the only person she had ever wanted to marry. The difference was that they had not entered into a romantic relationship the way Wolfram had with Yuuri. However, the way Wolfram moved on was rather a lot like how she had gone about her life after Julia had died, so she thought she understood.

There would always be ghosts between them – the ghosts of their first loves, Julia and Yuuri. But time would heal all wounds that her magic could not. Her love for Julia was still there in the back of her mind, but her heart never ached at the memories anymore. She was able to think about Julia and have the memories bring a smile to her face. Someday, maybe not anytime soon, but someday, she hoped Wolfram would feel the same.

For now, though, it was all right. Wolfram sometimes had that haunted, tortured look in his eyes, but her Wolfram was a strong man. He was a great man and a great king.

It was her duty, then, to become a great queen. With this in mind, Gisela von Kleist took her husband's hand and steeled herself for their first public appearance after the marriage. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and blew the ghosts back into their resting places.

When she opened them again, she saw shining green eyes and a beautiful smile. This was his element. He bloomed like vibrant, heady spring.

Wolfram lifted his lady's hand and kissed it.

"Shall we?"

"Yes, let's."


	3. The Infinite Ocean

**Ephemera Side Story #2: The Infinite Ocean**

Reaching for eternity in a transient world. Conrad and Yuuri, and almost Conrad/Yuuri.

-oOo-

Cecelie von Spitzweg, the 26th Maou, had been famous for her constant cruising which she called her Free and Easy Quest for Love. Rumors abounded among the citizenry that their previous sovereign had started something of a tradition for leaders of Shin Makoku to take to the seas when the pressures of the job got to be too much. But where Shibuya Yuuri, the 27th Maou, chose to go on vacation, or what he did once there, was always a mystery. He was much more low-key than his predecessor; he refused to take a royal vessel unless traveling on diplomatic missions.

Conrad turned his head at the opening of the cabin door.

"Good morning, Yuuri."

"Hey! Are you ready for another day of excitement, adventure, and really wild things?"

"I'm not sure how wild we can get at our age," he responded with a wry, teasing smile.

Yuuri smirked back. "Oh, you'd be surprised..."

There was a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes that, had they both been a bit younger, would have caused them to flush with guilt and embarrassment. It was one thing for Conrad to have made a few innuendo-laden comments before Yuuri's relationship with Wolfram had solidified. It was another thing entirely for the king in his prime to toy with his loyal soldier's heart when he was already dedicated to his lovely fiancé. But that was then, and the past was past. Now, Conrad figured that old men had a right to make dirty jokes once in a while. Wasn't it better to admit that there had been a "maybe" between them than to go on fooling themselves to the end?

Conrad leaned on the railing, gazing out toward the sea. The spray of saltwater on his face and the smell of wide open spaces were some of his favorite things. Yuuri loved them too, and when Conrad thought of how happy Yuuri would get to be sailing again, free from his duties for just a little while... When he saw Yuuri's shining face, it was all okay. This was one of those things that had never stopped being one of _their_ things, just for two. It was fine, he told himself, that the window of opportunity for "maybe" had lapsed.

The ship's gentle rocking continued on, its rhythm regular but never boring. It was just like the two old men who watched it. They, who had spent a lifetime together, would never tire of each other's company. Always there, the presence of each to the other was as steady as the ocean's heartbeat.

"Someone's coming," Yuuri said, jerking at the sound of footsteps. "Should we practice?"

"The same story as last time? If so, I believe we've had those roles down for years, _Master Mitsuemon_."

"Well, _Kaku-san_, it's the first time I've actually had a trunk of silks in the cabin in case anyone on board would like to see them."

Yuuri nodded to himself with pride. Conrad couldn't help but want to tease him.

"It's your first time bringing your wares along on a business trip? But how long have you been a merchant, sire?"

The footsteps approached but then faded away, and danger was averted. Yuuri, who'd had no comeback, breathed a sigh of relief as he resumed viewing the waves. "I'm a horrible fake merchant. Someone's going to catch on to us one of these days. We can't keep using the same names forever, you know? Do you think we should switch things up a bit, Kaku-san?"

"With all due respect, Master Mitsuemon, I don't see why we should. These aliases have always served us well. If we haven't been caught after all these years, I don't see them cluing in anytime soon."

Yuuri nodded in acceptance. It wasn't as if they had all that much time left for it to be worth it to concoct a new story. And, in Conrad's opinion, nothing they came up with at this point would be as meaningful as what they already had. The thought of retiring these personas was vaguely unsettling, as if they would be saying goodbye to old friends.

"But Kaku-san is getting too old to play Kaku-san," Yuuri said. "You've started graying at the temples, and Mitsuemon's the only one who's supposed to have white hair."

"Shall I dye it or wear a wig, Your Majesty?" his faithful servant said with a wink.

"Ha! Did you just break character? I win this round, Conrad!"

They laughed, but to Conrad it was half-hearted. Break character? If he could have broken character... If he had thought, for even a moment that anything other than pain would come of it, he would have done that long ago. Oh, so long ago.

"And call me Yuuri!"

-oOo-

They were things he could not bring himself to say aloud.

_I have been blessed to know and love you in two lives. May we meet again in the next._

_I belong with you. Nothing can keep me from returning to your side._

_Always and forever, I will love you, I will cherish you, I will be yours..._

There were things he was afraid to speak even in the confines of his own mind.

_I have held this hopeless love for you through two lives, and I will gladly suffer it again in two more._

_You belong with me. I long to make you mine even now._

_I will be yours, and you will be mine..._

No, no! Conrad clutched at Yuuri's hand, feeling the familiar weight of it as he pushed the dark thoughts away. Yuuri, as king, belonged to the entire nation. Yuuri, as himself, belonged to no one but himself, and it was Conrad who had always fought for him to be free. Whether it had been Gwendal, Stoffel, Belar, or Saralegui who sought to use Yuuri as the front for their political machinations, Conrad had always been there to cut the strings away before Yuuri could be bound.

Why, then, was he losing this battle to _himself_, of all possible opponents?

"Conrad, I want you to have this."

"Yuuri," he said. It was barely a whisper.

But Yuuri's eyes, even as they slowly dimmed, said that he knew everything. He knew of Conrad's darkness. He knew of the pangs of selfishness that Conrad had felt over the years; about how there were times when Conrad wanted nothing more than to hold Yuuri to himself and never let go, never let anything come between them and damn the consequences! All the things that Conrad could never bring himself to say over the years, and all the jumbled feelings he didn't even have the words for... Yuuri knew.

In the last moments of their flickering bond, their souls reached out for each other and there was a hope transmitted, with perfect clarity, between them. This was what Yuuri's soul said to his:

There had been times where Yuuri had wanted the same things; where Yuuri had also felt the desire to monopolize Conrad and to flee from the rest of the world. There were even regrets that they hadn't been more courageous, or perhaps more selfish, in pursuing a relationship with each other. There were regrets that they had never taken the risk of just sailing off together as Kaku-san and Mitsuemon, together forever, always searching for their next big adventure.

But the events that had passed were all right in their own way. It didn't matter what kind of relationship they had or would have had or could have had. Perhaps they were destined always to meet after one had already fallen in love or gotten engaged to someone else. Perhaps they would never be true lovers, but remain forever star-crossed. It didn't matter. As long as their souls existed, they would feel drawn to one another in that same inexplicable way that led them to become the best of friends twice over in a love that spanned at least the two lifetimes that they knew of, and that had cut through the very fabric of time and space. Whatever happened in the next life, they promised to find each other again.

The message received, they smiled one last time and thought, perhaps, perhaps...

Half-formed promises lingered in the air. Before they could be breathed into reality, Conrad felt it. Yuuri. His light. Vanished. And all was dark but for the blue hope that lay there where it had been pressed to Conrad's palm.

Conrad couldn't bring himself to leave until it was dawn. His back was stiff as he slowly lifted himself from the bedside chair.

"They say that all good things must come to an end," he said. "I've never been able to accept that, at least not when it came to you. We will meet again."

He pressed a tender kiss to Yuuri's temple. His own wrinkled hand lay against a wrinkled cheek, and he smoothed his thumb across those lips that had never been his.

It was not the end. Their bond could not, would not ever end.

-oOo-

Yuuri had been sick for a long time, and Conrad despaired every day. He tried to think of other things, really, but his thoughts would always unconsciously return to his most important person. Conrad thought that he might never get to be by Yuuri's side like before, but then Yuuri made a miraculous recovery from his illness.

They met again many times after that, though usually it was at night. During the day, they were both so busy with work that they couldn't often steal away enough time to meet. But it had been a ritual they'd had for years to play catch by moonlight, so they were used to it.

"Good evening, Your Majesty."

"Again with the formalities, Conrad? It's Yuuri!"

He graced Yuuri with a brilliant smile as they strode through the courtyard, and it was hesitantly, almost shyly, that he made a request of his king. "Yuuri, I... Would it be possible for us to meet more often?"

"Only if you call me Yuuri from now on. I don't care who's around - you have to use my given name at all times!"

Eagerly, perhaps too eagerly, Conrad acquiesced. And they played catch.

The morning after that, Yuuri peeked around the corner as Conrad exited his room. He was beautiful today, as always.

"Good morning, Yuuri."

"Morning, Conrad."

It was then that Wolfram burst out from his hiding spot behind a marble column. He stalked up briskly, boots angrily clacking across the stone floor, and gripped Conrad's collar with his fingers bloodless and shaking.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he shouted, voice trembling.

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean!"

"Whoa. Calm down, Wolf. Why are you attacking Conrad all of a sudden?"

When Wolfram didn't let go at Yuuri's plea, Conrad frowned. He knew Wolfram was hot-headed, and even though the years had mellowed him out, he also knew that Yuuri was a necessary calming influence. It was strange for his brother not to listen to Yuuri.

Conrad looked over at Yuuri, whose mouth was open in shock. Wolfram turned to look, too, but then he shook his head and said, "Stop it, Conrad. There's nothing there."

"Yuuri–"

"Stop it! He's _dead_! He's dead and he's never coming back, don't you understand?"

"What? I'm not dead, you guys..."

Conrad met Yuuri's infectious smile with one of his own. "I don't know what you mean by all of this, Wolfram, but you shouldn't speak that way about Yuuri when he's right here."

Wolfram abruptly turned his back on Conrad so as not to show his weakness. He muffled his cry into his sleeve, the strangled sound coming across as desperate lamentation. It was only for a few seconds, and then Wolfram composed himself to face his brother anew.

He pulled away from his sleeve, which was stained with tears.

"Conrad?" Wolfram asked softly. He reached out to clasp his brother's arm. "Listen to me. Look at Yuuri. Is he wearing the pendant?"

"What? Of course." Conrad was growing confused now. He could see that Yuuri was frowning as the young man brought his hand up to touch the trinket. It was glowing softly.

Wolfram let out a shaky exhalation. "Good. Okay. If Yuuri is wearing the pendant, then what is this?"

Conrad felt his brother's fingers brush along the leather cord at his neck, and even though a part of him was screaming that this was all a trick - a lie - he clenched his fists at his sides and looked down.

The blue stone gleamed as beautifully as always, and Conrad moved to grasp it. It was unnaturally warm in his palm as he brought his eyes back up to meet Yuuri's. Yuuri closed his eyes, nodded tiredly at Conrad, and faded away.

With Yuuri's retreat, the fog in Conrad's mind cleared and the sudden return of the pain in his chest threatened to crush his lungs. Like a splash of cold water on the cheek, the weight of the fathomless ocean dragged his heart down to where no light could reach.

He was awake.

"I'm sorry," he said to Wolfram, "I don't know what came over me."

-oOo-

The pendant was his hope on a string. Blue, "Lion Blue", as Yuuri had called it. It was blue like the ocean, and blue like Yuuri's favorite baseball team. Conrad turned it over and over in his hands, running it over his knuckles and between his fingers. It seemed to grow brighter the more he smoothed it over his palm. There were times when it would shimmer and flash with what little maryoku was buried within, and it was then that Yuuri would appear.

In his moments of clarity, Conrad knew that what he was seeing was only a shade of what had been. This magical stone had been close to Yuuri's heart for so many decades, and of course Yuuri had imprinted himself upon it. But the truth couldn't stop him from hoping.

He turned the stone over. He turned it again. The world grew dimmer, but the stone grew brighter until all he could see was warmth and light as he sank into the ocean's embrace.

"Hello, Yuuri. I missed you."

* * *

**A/N:**The original working title for this was "Mono no Aware", which I wrote and scrapped and rewrote and scrapped again. It went through a total overhaul many times. (I'm still not completely satisfied with it, and I doubt I ever will be.) The original version focused more on the theme of "transience", but that was already the main theme of the series. They all have a secondary theme, too. The first was about remembrance; the second was about moving on. But "Mono no Aware" was suffering from a lack of substance in that regard, so I gave it the theme of "eternity", which I feel is a lot more in line with the reincarnation bond between Conrad and Yuuri, and that's how it turned out this way.

Each of the brothers had their own chapter and, in a way, their own unique love for Yuuri. Gwendal's love was a love of the mind, borne of respect for Yuuri's ideals. Wolfram's love was a passionate affair of the body and the heart. And Conrad's love is a love of the soul - hard to define (much less pin down), changing across lives, but also eternal. I hope I was able to convey that feeling.

Thank you to all the readers for the support and encouragement you've given me throughout the writing of this mini-series. I know it took way too long to get this out. Thanks to jarta for the inspiring idea of Conrad and Yuuri as old men, lol! And thanks to everyone who prodded my lazy ass to get this out. Thank you, thank you, thank you!


End file.
